


roses at midnight

by iwpseudonym



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, This is the first fanfic I’ve written in years, and I wrote it in about twenty minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 10:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18892702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwpseudonym/pseuds/iwpseudonym





	roses at midnight

Crowley miracled his shoes dry and walked into the shop, not even registering the sign reading “closed”, the sign reading “keep out,” or the Post-it reading “Tim, come around back.” 

He was clutching a cellophane packet of roses. Roses were the magic flower, the flowers that could say “I’m sorry” and “I love you” and anything else, all in one bud. Weren’t they? 

Either way, he shook them gently to dry them off, and smoothed out his shirt.

A pair of tartan legs came down the stairs, followed by the rest of the pajamas and their owner. Carrying a mug of cocoa. 

_ Of course. _

Crowley tried a smile. Aziraphale did not.

“Good evening, Crowley. What brings you here?”

“Evening.” He waved, and Aziraphale sighed. 

“What are you looking to get from this? What do you want?”

“I wanted to pop by, say hello. Maybe have a little chat.”

“About what?”

Aziraphale was now in the shop proper, setting his mug down and looking over Crowley, eyebrow slightly raised at the roses. “What’s this?”

“Roses.”

With all the charm and elegance of a middle school boy asking someone on a date, Crowley handed Aziraphale the bouquet. Aziraphale set it down on the stairs, and looked at him more seriously now.

“Are you in trouble?”

“No, not with… my lot.”

“Then… why are you here?” 

Crowley just looked at Aziraphale, and Aziraphale closed his eyes, grimacing slightly.

“We agreed, that it would be best to… bring certain adventures to their ends, did we not?”

“I know we did, yeah, but listen–”

“I don’t want to listen, I want to go upstairs and read–”

“Come on, Azi, just hear me out–”

“No.” He stepped back up the stairs, narrowly avoiding crushing the roses, shaking his head. “You’ve received your answer. Now, it’s really not a good time, and the shop is closed.”

Crowley paused, then sighed and nodded. “I’ll come back tomorrow, then–”

“I don’t think that would be the best idea, either.”

“... Well, when would you–”

Aziraphale shook his head again. “... I don’t want to play this out again, any more than you want to hear it again.”

Seeing Crowley’s mouth open, Aziraphale cut him off. “Please. We’ve both said what we had to say. Now, if you would…” He indicated the door.

“I haven’t said all I had to say, Aziraphale.”

“Well, I have. Don’t do this.”

Crowley stepped forward, one foot on the stairs. “All I’m asking is for you to hear me out.”

“And I am not asking, I am  _ telling _ you to  _ leave. _ ”

Aziraphale stepped down, only a step between them. 

“I am telling you that I have  _ not _ changed my mind, that I am not going to fall into your arms because you came and brought me roses at midnight, and that I do not want to hear one more word on the subject. Am I clear?”

Crowley adjusted his sunglasses. “Remembering what we said last time, how we left things? I think you’re being unfair here.”

“Oh,  _ I’m _ being unfair?” Aziraphale stepped down, inches from Crowley. “I’m not the one using the other as a way to feel more human. I’m not the one who puts up false pretenses even to the one he claims to put above all else. Honestly, do you expect me to fawn over you again, knowing that everything  _ good _ about you is just a show? Even now, you’re here not because you feel anything, but because you think that a person, a human — like you want to be so badly — would come, make this sort of romantic gesture. You’re here because you think that if you follow these romantic little rules of yours, you’ll be forgiven.  You  _ won’t _ be.”

“I’m not looking for divine approval, angel, I’m looking for two minutes of your time—”

“You’ve taken your two minutes, now stop this ridiculous little show and leave me in peace—”

“I’m not here to put on a show, for — for someone’s sake, I’m here because I miss you, do you understand?!”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to argue, but Crowley plowed on. “I’m here because I wanted to see you, to  _ apologize. _ That’s what the flowers are for, as a - a symbolic gesture, I don’t know, point  _ is _ that I… miss you. And I’m sorry I made you feel I didn’t trust you.”

Aziraphale scoffed, looking away. Crowley took his hand. “Look at me.” He took off his sunglasses. “I’m not wearing my usual lipstick, I’m not trying to make myself look like anything I’m not, I’m… sorry, and I didn’t want to leave you knowing I wasn’t.”

After a minute, he finally looked back. When Aziraphale spoke next, it was a whisper. “... But you know this doesn’t - doesn’t change anything?”

“Give a demon  _ some _ credit, I’m not entirely stupid.”

“... You know that I’m not going to just… take you back, just like that.”

“I’m not trying to make you. All I want is…” He sighed. “I miss talking. I miss being able to see one another, and… you.”

Aziraphale nodded. After another eternal minute, he stepped forward, leaning down to pick up the roses. Crowley cleared his throat.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. At opening.”

“The store will be closed tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at lunchtime.”

Aziraphale nodded, and so did Crowley. He walked over to the door, looking over his shoulder as he pushed it open. “Good night angel.”

He left, cursing the puddles that soaked his feet, disappearing into the ink-black rain. Aziraphale put the roses in a teapot, filling it with water. 

He lingered for a bit, finally pressing a chaste kiss to a rosebud, whispering into it. 

“Good night, my dear.”


End file.
